


The Red Towel

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: Arthur suspects Merlin of having stolen his beach towel.





	The Red Towel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlocked18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlocked18/gifts).



After working twelve hour days for three hundred and seventy days straight, Arthur finally took a holiday. It necessitated some prompting from HR, which complained about his over dues and fiscal cycles, and some from his sister, but Arthur finally went on the internet and booked himself a couple of weeks stay on an island off Croatia. 

The flight was low cost and distasteful. Instead of his usual Business Class perks, Arthur had to suffer no complimentary meal, less leg room, and the vicinity of over loud fellow passenger. The wailing baby, he supposed, couldn't be avoided no matter what the fare system or the airline. But the adults being so vocal were a definite disgrace.

The hotel, however, was fine. Arthur had an eye for outstanding resorts, and the one he had chosen had large rooms, a great à la carte restaurant, two pools and access to an exclusive beach. It was exactly what Arthur had been looking for. Here he could wind down, relax the way he had failed to do the previous year, forget about his job (though he kept in frequent contact with his office and they could Skype him at any time), and get a sun tan into the bargain.

After having sampled the private beach (where waiters at the guests beck and call of guests served cocktails), and the pool, Arthur tried the public beach. He'd have stayed in the hotel enclave all the time – was actually content to – but a zealous concierge had told him the finest sand strip in the vicinity actually belonged to the communal beach. 

So Arthur hired a scooter and, rucksack on his shoulders, headed out there. Arthur could put up with the mob so as to be able to enjoy a blue flag strip of coast. When Arthur got there, he found it wasn't so bad at all. Though there were no sunbeds and no umbrellas, the place wasn't over crowded at all. There were more unruly children about than he liked, but all in all the vista was fantastic, sunshine flooded the area nicely, and the sea had an aquamarine tint Arthur rarely got to see.

Sprayed with sunscreen all over, Arthur flattened his dragon crested (company logo) red towel on the sand, and lay down, closing his eyes even though he wore sun glasses. Caressed by the sun, his body unknotted and his muscles lost the tension accumulated over an year of sitting at his desk. Inhaling the sea air, his lungs filled with something other than London's smog. He warmed to the point of contentment and dozed off to the sound of the sea ebbing in and away. 

When he woke, though, he felt rather too hot. His skin was prickling, his scalp was baking, and the bridge of his nose burned. He applied more lotion but he knew that wouldn't be enough. He needed to cool down. Nothing for it but to go for a swim. 

Decision taken, he waded in before diving. Arthur was a good swimmer. He had learnt as a child in Thailand on a holiday paid for by his dad so so he had both style and stamina. He ducked under, he free styled and breast stroked, he swam close to some artificial shoals, then made it towards the shore.

Once he got back to his place, he immediately realised that his towel was missing. He looked around and failed to find it. It was red and it ought to be easily noticeable. But it wasn't anywhere that he could see. Unless...

A few yards away from him lay a lanky man on a red towel. The same hue as Arthur's. Kicking up some sand, Arthur stomped towards him. “Hey mister,” he said. “I think you have my towel.”

The man had earbuds in, his eyes closed, and his head on an inflatable pillow. 

Arthur saw that he would have to make more noise to be heeded. He spoke louder, in a tone of voice he found rather obnoxious himself, but still there was no response from the prone man. Seeing no alternative, Arthur kicked the man's ankle. 

That made the man sit up. He took out his earbuds and said, “Hey, watch out mate.”

“I would but what I did was quite deliberate.” Arthur prided himself on being polite but there were occasions in which rudeness was necessary. 

The man – dark hair, blue eyes – frowned at him. “In that case I fear for your manners.”

The man was really something else. First he stole Arthur's towel and then he had the gall to comment on Arthur's retaliatory behaviour. “I should fear for yours.”

The man went slack jawed, stuttered a few words, then said, “Excuse me?”

Arthur made wide eyes at the man. “First you steal my towel--” Arthur pointed at the offending item. “And then you dare act like that.”

“Steal your what?” The man sat up, eyes darkening and narrowing on Arthur. “Your towel? I didn't nick your towel!”

Arthur blew air from his mouth. This really took the cake! “You're sitting on it. My red towel.”

“This towel is mine, mate!” the man said, cheeks hollowing with disdain. “It's always been mine.” 

Arthur had heard this one before. He wouldn't be fooled so easily. The truth was plain to see. “Look, I don't know who you think you can--”

Glowering, the man stood up. He picked up his towel and showed him a side of it, two big letters were hand stitched on it, M and E. 

On Arthur's towel there had been no such stitching. Since he didn't believe the man had had the time to embroider the letters in, it followed this wasn't Arthur's towel. Now that he had a better look at it, he found the Pendragon logo was missing too. It was clear it wasn't Arthur's. 

The man said, “These happen to be my initials, Merlin Emrys. The towel is mine.”

Yes, Arthur had come to the same conclusion. He didn't know what to say. He supposed apologies wouldn't fly. “I, er, see now that you're right.”

“You can say it out loud,” Merlin said. “You should say you're sorry.”

Arthur couldn't see a way out of this embarrassment. He had really put his foot in it. “I am.” At this point there was nothing but to acknowledge how wrong he had been. “I've made assumptions.” Which were probably influenced by the wrong reasons, like this place being a public one rather than an exclusive resort. “But that was wrong of me.” He chewed his lip. “In fact it was quite below me and something I wish I hadn't done now.” The more so since Merlin was looking at him sceptically. “It was really dishonourable of me, jumping to conclusions and all. So I hope you'll let me make up for it.”

“Make up for it?” Merlin's eyebrow climbed up in an arc. 

Arthur made it up on the spur of the moment. “Let me buy you a beer. It's the least I can do.”

“I don't drink at the beach.” Merlin was smiling now though so he couldn't have been that much dead set against it.

That was all the encouragement Arthur needed. Besides, Merlin was personable, with sparkling eyes and a grin as brilliant as the day was bright. And his body, all on show in blue trunks, was fine indeed. “Then let me buy one afterwards.” Since Merlin didn't look loath to accept, Arthur was emboldened. “Let's say tonight.”

Merlin proffered his hand. “Deal.” The handshake was warm and powerful. “I'm renting a fisherman's house in Baska village. Rapska Ulica. Ask of Merlin Emrys.”

 

**** 

The weather turned in the afternoon, with cloudy skies that shone grey and light rain that put puddles everywhere. Arthur preferred sunny weather and clear heavens but he realised he could not have everything. Despite the summer chill, he found the day was great. He had a nice evening to look forward to, his scooter worked fine, and Baska was surely going to be a fine town. 

Whistling, he climbed his Vespa and drove off towards the town. He arrived at sunset, with the sea made choppy by the wind. He found the street with ease – it cut off a larger one – and asking of Merlin Emrys got him many smiles and some pointing in the right direction.

The house Arthur was directed to was small, two-storied, with windows pointing eastwards. It had a flat roof and was painted a pale pink all over. Outside it in the tiny garden were fishing implements, nets, and a motor boat engine. A rickety fountain overgrown with moss kept spouting water.

Arthur rang the doorbell outside.

Merlin came out onto the balcony. He wore a nice shirt, button down, of a cut you usually saw paired with trousers, but rather casual bermudas with a floral motive. They clashed with the shirt but Arthur didn't mind in the least. He thought Merlin looked rather fetching in the ensemble. Merlin waved and shouted, “I'll be right down.”

He was true to his word. In less than a minute he had joined Arthur. 

Arthur said, “So where do you want to go?”

“I know a place.”

Merlin took him to a bar by the seaside. It had a view of the rolling waves and of the bay. It also had tall wooden trestle tables around which people gathered. Merlin and Arthur chose one in a quite corner and ordered themselves a beer. “You know you don't need to buy me one. You don't have to make up for anything really.”

“I was rude.” Arthur couldn't deny the truth. 

Merlin's nose wrinkled and he laughed. “Yeah, a bit.”

The beers came. They sipped at them in silence, though, Arthur felt, there was nothing awkward about it. They watched the late bathers, who, though the sun was going down, still went at it. They watched the seagulls that coasted the bay in flight and took in the bar patrons.

“So what are you doing out here in Croatia?” Merlin asked.

“Taking an overdue holiday.” Arthur pointed with the glass at Merlin. “You?”

“Oh, reconnecting with my dad.” Merlin rolled his eyes, as if he expected some derision on Arthur's part. “Before this summer I'd last seen him when I was thirteen. He's opened a diving school up in Malinska. He rents equipment, teaches newbies. That kind of thing.” Merlin played with the label of his beer. “When he mailed me – out of the blue I don't even know he had my address – he told me to come out here. He wanted to show me what he'd done with himself.”

Arthur wasn't sure it was his place to ask. The one he had in mind was a pretty private question. That said, Merlin seemed to have spoken openly just now. He didn't appear to have a problem with that and he had introduced the subject himself. “You were sceptical?”

“A little,” Merlin said, nodding. “But he's really set himself up for good here.”

“Does it upset you?” Arthur asked. “That he's not coming back?”

Merlin thought about it for a little while. “When I was I kid it would have. But he's fine. He's made contact. He's doing well for himself. I don't think I can ask for more.” He drank. “But what about you? I've hogged the conversation.”

“You haven't.” Merlin had only answered Arthur's questions after all. Arthur had liked his replies. “There's not much to say, really. I don't holiday enough. I work a lot. And my life is a little boring.”

“I don't believe you.” Merlin hailed the waiter and asked for a second run of beer. “Who do you work for? Are you single? Do you do sports?”

Arthur blushed at the drift of the questions. So Merlin was interested. It wasn't just an impression. Or a feeling on Arthur's part. There was something. Well, unless Arthur had dreamed it all and the query was after all harmless and just designed to highlight Arthur's life. Damn, but dating was hard. But was this dating? “I work for an accounting firm.” Well, that was safe ground. Arthur's job was his holy place. “But I'm in customer acquisition management. Have been for two years.” Now this was boring. Arthur found it so himself. He could only imagine Merlin was disinterested. And like this it looked like he was avoiding the other question. Merlin might think he was for a specific reason. “I'm single. I've been for more than a year.” Everything in between had been so casual as to scarcely need naming. “That's my last semi serious relationship.”

“My best friend was mine's.” Their beers arrived and Merlin latched onto the bottle. “Such a spectacularly bad idea.” 

Arthur feared Merlin was still close to that friend of his. Suddenly he felt the urge to make the conversation impersonal again. 

But Merlin ploughed on. “You can't mix those feelings and expect things to work out.”

“Building on friendship's always been my ideal.” Not that Arthur had ever managed. More often that not he had had brief relationships born of casual encounters. The one time he had succeeded had been Gwen and she had ultimately chosen Lancelot. “But I understand how it's complicated.”

Arthur paid for the beers though Merlin insisted they go Dutch. Arthur reminded him, though he didn't particularly want to awaken the memory of his blunder, that they were here because of what Arthur had done.

“I hope that's not the only reason.”

Arthur went red to the tip of his hair. He didn't know what to do with Merlin's statement, though a low-burning excitement went through him. He wanted something to happen but he didn't know how to let it. He didn't want to be too explicit in case he'd misunderstood. That would be worse than this morning's faux pas. So when their drinks were paid for, he suggested they take a walk on the beach. That was a neat compromise. Beaches at night were supposed to be romantic, weren't they? If something was to happen, it would happen there. But if nothing was destined to, then he could get away with his offer having been platonic. Everybody loved nature.

The sun had gone down and the sea behind them was wrapped in darkness. But light came from the street behind them and from the move above. They walked along the shoreline, hearing the sound of the tide, kicking off their shoes and picking them up to go barefoot, water lapping at their feet.

“It's all very nice,” Arthur said, thinking it a nice opener, a romantic statement. “The air and the sea and...”

“Very.” Merlin moved at the same pace as him.

“I'm enjoying myself.” There, Arthur had made it clear. The company was making all the difference. Hopefully, Merlin picked him up on that.

“Me too.” Merlin looked ahead, a the cement barrier that enclosed the beach. “If you'd asked me this morning that I'd be having fun with Towel Guy I'd have said no.”

“I'm really mortified about that.” Arthur had hoped Merlin wouldn't mention that. It truly was one of his lowest points. “I don't know what I was thinking when I accused you. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I--”

Merlin turned Arthur around. “I didn't mean it like that. I--” Merlin smiled. “I meant it like this.”

Feet in the water and moonlight washing over them, Merlin kissed Arthur right on the lips. His mouth was on Arthur's, the point of contact making him come alight. He parted his mouth, hopeful, a quiver of emotion stabbing him in the place between the ribs, and Merlin's tongue was there, gently seeking out his own.

Arthur loved direct approaches and snogging on the beach. From this day forward Arthur would love holidays too.


End file.
